


A Little Taste of Paradise

by Ralkana



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Baking, Community: trope_bingo, Curtain Fic, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Food Porn, M/M, Pineapple and Coconut Scones, Post-Movie(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-09
Updated: 2013-02-09
Packaged: 2017-11-28 16:04:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/676273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ralkana/pseuds/Ralkana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The suite smells amazing when Phil walks in, and he can't help but stop and take a deep breath. A smile lifts his lips as he sets his briefcase down and heads toward the kitchen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Taste of Paradise

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to everyone in the C/C crowd who was hanging around on tumblr yesterday when the [preview for the first issue of Secret Avengers](http://www.comicbookmovie.com/fansites/JoshWildingNewsAndReviews/news/?a=73932) came out, after which we all proceeded to collectively lose our freaking minds. Damn, that was fun.
> 
> Disclaimer ~ Marvel's toys, not mine. I'm just playing.
> 
> This story fills the "food porn" square on my Trope Bingo card.

 

The suite smells amazing when Phil walks in, and he can't help but stop and take a deep breath. A smile lifts his lips as he sets his briefcase down and heads toward the kitchen.

This is one of the strangest aspects of his fairly new relationship with Clint -- one he's had entirely too much experience with in their time together, unfortunately. He'd assumed, in the past, that Clint -- when forced onto medical leave but relatively unharmed -- would catch up on his sleep or watch TV or marathon ridiculously violent video games.

He does all that sometimes. But mostly, when Clint is bored and forced into idleness, he bakes. From scratch.

Clint's all-too-frequent medical leaves have come to mean more time in the gym for both of them when he is back to mission-ready status. It's completely worth it, not just for the amazing treats Phil sometimes comes home to, but mostly for the eager, proud look on Clint's face as he watches Phil taste whatever he's created, and the pleased smile that invariably spreads over his face when Phil is reduced to incoherent sounds of appreciation.

Phil steps into the kitchen just as Clint is sliding a tray into the oven, and he can't quite stifle this hum of appreciation either.

The archer's well-worn jeans hug his perfect ass beautifully as he bends, his black t-shirt snug over the shifting muscles of his back and arms.

He stands and half-turns, a wicked grin on his face as he catches Phil staring from the doorway.

Phil can feel his cheeks heat a little at being caught ogling so blatantly, but he smiles back as Clint swaggers over to him and grabs him by his tie to reel him in for a kiss.

It's warm and perfect with just the slightest edge of heat, and Phil gratefully leans into it, sliding his arms around Clint to hold him closer.

He rests his forehead against Clint's as the kiss ends, his fingers ghosting over the dark bruise at the younger man's temple.

"How's the head?" he murmurs, and Clint rolls his eyes.

"Fine," he bites out. "There's no reason I can't go to the range, Phil -- "

Phil stops the building rant with another brief kiss. "Sure there is. If I'd let you go to the range, I wouldn't get to eat whatever you've baked here."

Clint glares at him, unimpressed, and Phil chuckles. "Two more days," he says softly. "I like your brain. I don't want it scrambled."

"That's not all you like," Clint says with a leer, and Phil nods.

"True," he says contemplatively. "You feed me too, so that's a plus."

If the quick swat on his ass is meant to be some sort of punishment, it fails miserably.

"What are you baking, anyway?" he asks, and Clint reaches back without looking to grab one of whatever's cooling on a rack on the counter. Phil smiles in anticipation at the sight of it. "Is that a scone?"

Clint breaks a small piece off and pops it into Phil's mouth, and Phil chews reflexively, blinking in surprise as the completely unexpected flavors hit his tongue. "Is that... are these pineapple? And coconut? In a scone?"

Clint shrugs as he breaks off another piece. "Guess you don't like 'em then," he mutters around the mouthful, avoiding Phil's gaze.

"No, they're good," Phil says instantly, bending to take another bite off the scone in Clint's hand. It's the truth, and he knows Clint can hear that in his words, and he watches that smile he loves bloom over Clint's face. "Really good. Just... unexpected. What in the hell made you decide to bake pineapple coconut scones in the middle of February when there's a blizzard bearing down on us?"

The younger man shrugs again, taking another bite. "Found a recipe. And... I haven't really ever been in a place before where I could get -- or afford -- fresh pineapple in February, let alone with the right equipment to bake scones. Hell, I don't think I even knew what a scone was until a couple of years ago, so..."

The scone in Clint's hand is pretty much down to crumbs, so Phil reaches around him to grab another one, taking a moment to examine it.

Phil has probably had more than his fair share of scones over his lifetime; some have been good, most have been mediocre, and some have been so terrible that the dwarves on Discworld would scornfully turn them away, even as weapons. This scone, though? This scone is perfect.

It's still warm from the oven, the shiny crust a beautifully even golden brown. It is feather-light and fluffy, not dense at all, and it crumbles wonderfully when he breaks it, releasing a puff of fragrant steam that he happily breathes in.

He closes his eyes as he tastes it, letting the flavors mingle on his tongue. The scone itself is rich and buttery without being heavy, a flawless balance with the more exotic flavors of the fruit. The chunks of fresh pineapple are tart and tangy, contrasting with the mild sweetness of the coconut so perfectly that he thinks he'll never be able to enjoy them separately again. Then, there is the faintest hint of citrus that is the perfect finish.

"So good," he says, and it's practically a moan. He hears Clint's quick indrawn breath, and he lets his satisfied smile go a little wicked as he opens his eyes.

Clint is watching him closely, his expression half-predatory and _all_ proud. Phil takes a deep breath and then another bite of scone, and he grins as Clint's eyes follow the path of the scone in his hand and lock unerringly on his mouth. He licks his lips, humming happily at the hint of sweetness he finds there, and Clint's fingers tighten just a little on his hip.

"Reminds me of summer," he realizes suddenly, and the sweet tension of the moment slowly ebbs away. Clint chuckles, glancing out the window to where the snow is falling faster every minute.

"That was the other reason," he replies. "Thought maybe we could use a reminder. Summer seems pretty damn far away right now."

Phil silently agrees as he watches the snow fall. "Maybe we'll take a week this summer," he says speculatively. "Go somewhere tropical."

The smile Clint gives him is rueful. With the formation of the Avengers, planned vacations are kind of a thing of the past.

Well, that's not true. The planning is still possible; it's the execution of those plans that usually takes a beating. Along with the team.

"It's a nice dream, anyway," Clint says with a smile as he starts gathering up all his used bowls and utensils, and Phil moves to help him.

"I missed the best part," Phil says mournfully as he strips off his suit jacket and rolls up his shirt sleeves. Clint glances at him curiously as he begins filling the sink with soap and water. "Watching your arms as you mix the batter," he clarifies, and Clint laughs.

"It's dough," he says as he dumps everything into the sink. "And scone dough takes very little mixing." He's ostentatiously flexing now as he scrubs the mixer bowl clean, and Phil watches happily as they make short work of the few dishes. "Maybe I'll make some bread this weekend, hmm? Something that needs a lot of kneading? A lot of hands-on manipulation..."

Phil decides the dishes are done, and he plants a wet hand in the center of Clint's chest, pushing him until his back hits the stainless steel refrigerator door. Clint stares at him in surprise, soapy water dripping from his fingertips to puddle on the kitchen floor.

"How long do those things have to bake?" he rasps out, watching Clint's eyes go dark.

"Long enough," Clint says, pulling him in for another kiss.

**END**


End file.
